The Name of the Game
by her-majesty-wears-jeans
Summary: Canon compliant, set around eps 4x14 "Checkmate" and 4x15 "End Game". Robin thinks about whether she and Don should give their relationship another go. Rated M for implied smut.


**I've been a Numb3rs fan for so long... and Robin/Don trash for quite some time as well, so it's high time I had something to show for it ;)**

 **This picks up right where Checkmate left off, with Don and Robin at the Ritz.**

* * *

It had been too easy, Robin worried, to end up in bed with Don. They'd finished their dinner as planned, and when Don had joked about the lack of dessert, she hadn't even realized she'd given him a look before he'd pulled her up to meet his lips. Robin still wasn't sure if it was the best idea, but she was not about to turn him away now. His hands were roaming on her hips underneath the hem of her top; the innocent warmth mixed with urgent pressure an intoxicating feeling she had been deprived of for too long.

After tugging his shirt off, she claimed his mouth back with vigor she hadn't remembered possessing, telling herself she should slow down. Though the hunger with which he responded told her they were going to sleep together, the consequences be damned, she didn't want to mess things up any further by being too hasty.

Don's willingness to let her in as close as she was at the moment had surprised her, but it was exactly what she'd feared might happen once they'd see each other again. She'd been relatively successful in hiding from him until their work had intersected as it always did. In hindsight, Robin was surprised she'd managed to steer clear from his unit as long as she had.

Seeing him for the first time in over a year had given her pause but she'd gotten through the onslaught of emotion by telling herself it was like any other case. It was work, she just happened to be working with Don. They'd always been good at prioritizing work above everything else, so while things had been awkward between them, they'd been on rather amicable terms.

Or so she'd thought. The next time she'd seen Don, he'd been in her office, justifying the absurd accusations he was spitting by insisting he didn't have a choice. Shocked to suddenly find herself a suspect, Robin had been hurt by his lack of trust in her, furious that he'd let their past interfere with their work, and furious at herself for having been so upset about it. She knew she had hurt him and probably given him every reason to resent her, but she'd thought being bitter wasn't in his nature. All the same, she'd responded in kind. She hadn't wanted to be bitchy but hadn't been able to help herself; he'd been an ass.

And still, it had hurt like hell to hear Don admit how much her leaving had cost him and to see how much of a non-ass he still was even despite it all. She hated to think she might have ruined someone as good as him.

Robin tried not to get too wrapped up in the sentimental thoughts in her head but it was hard when he was murmuring compliments in her ear, his lips brushing against her jaw. She cursed inwardly; she'd almost forgot how smooth he could be. He was doing good work of stripping her, claiming the exposed skin with fervor. A rogue stroke between her legs had her gasping in surprise, and he was grinning when she met his eyes, the expression lighting a familiar fire inside her. How was she supposed to maintain a clear head and stay away from him? She had tried the first time, but given she was back in his arms, failed rather spectacularly.

She'd kept him at a distance right from the beginning. When she'd ended up sleeping in his bed more often than in her own, she'd tried to detach herself from him and what the drawer he'd given her could have represented by keeping there nothing but one of her favorite hairclips. She'd realized she'd succeeded one day when she'd taken the clip with her to work; there had been nothing left tying her to Don. Leaving had been easy.

Though the sentiment had been on the tip of her tongue from the moment they'd locked eyes through the hospital wall, she hadn't apologized for running, complying with the relaxed atmosphere and turned the story into a joke. Getting Don to talk about his feelings had seemed to require a crowbar even before she'd given him a reason to regret opening up to her, or when they hadn't been surrounded by several agents guarding her against a homicidal gang leader. Having Don around had helped, though, by giving her something else to focus on. And… No matter what, Don was someone she'd always trust to protect her.

And then he had gone and saved her life.

Robin realized she had yet to thank Don properly for it. Formulating a quick plan, she pried his hands off her breasts and removed her lips from his neck. Not wanting him to get the wrong idea, she didn't step away from his embrace and stayed close enough that he should've still felt her breath on his skin. Once he threw her the expected confused look she countered with a mischievous smile, she started trailing kisses down his body as she sunk to her knees deliberately slowly to ensure he knew what she was doing.

Reducing Don to unintelligible groans did wonders for her pride not to mention her insides, so Robin took her time even though it gave her thoughts an opportunity to run away from her again. She didn't know what to make of their situation, caught between not wanting to ruin the moment and wondering if the both of them would still be satisfied once their needs would be.

After a round or two of heated arguments and icy tones, things had settled between them so quickly it was almost eerie. It seemed they had a mutual attraction, a draw or whatever towards each other that they were both tired of denying now that they weren't on opposite sides of the country anymore. The way Don still looked at her, the smiles he gave her, the gentle brushes on her hair or her arm, how he'd been ready to kiss her on impulse… He wasn't the type to play games, at least not when he wasn't ready to win them. Their first attempt at the candlelight dinner had been cut short but it had spoken volumes. The way he'd acted with her, even for those brief minutes before everything had gone to shit, had had to mean something.

Don wasn't sending mixed signals as much as signals that Robin was apprehensive to believe. He'd given her a hairclip and though he had made it a part of his work **,** she couldn't help seeing it as an invitation back into his life. She wasn't sure if she was being too naïve – she didn't even know how she'd answer him if that were the case – but he was too good with stuff like that for it not to mean anything. Whatever the motives behind it, the gesture had been so sweet it would've earned him a kiss if not for his radio beeping. Although him being called away had been weirdly calming in its familiarity.

In general, it was unfair just how _comfortable_ being with Don was. He was disarming, lulling her into a sense of security Robin worried was false but didn't have it in her to resist. After everything that had happened between them, she suspected things should have been different, but he didn't _feel_ different. The way he whispered that it was her turn still sent shivers down her spine as he set out to return the favor she'd done him some minutes ago. Her body recognized Don's with ease, quick to react to his touch. He seemed to remember her as well, she thought with delight as his teeth grazed her nipple, and that was the last coherent thought she had in a while.

* * *

After the first (or first three, depending on how you counted) faithful encounter, they quickly fell into a pattern that was suspiciously similar to the one they had had in the beginnings of their relationship. Shying away from heavy topics and limiting conversations mainly to pillow talk and ambiguous flirting kept things uncomplicated enough. They had an unspoken agreement about things they left unspoken, focusing instead on reconciling on an intimate level. Robin was pleased to find that the time spent apart or the concomitant dry spell hadn't been affecting her brain the first time, but that Don was as good as she'd remembered. She knew she probably should ask herself why being with him felt so good and how she'd react when they'd eventually have to talk about what it was they were doing, but she was too cheerful to start dwelling on such serious topics.

She managed to stay in her bubble for a few weeks before it was popped by a primal feeling Robin loathed the second she recognized what had caused her stomach to turn. If there was one thing she should definitely not have felt, given their non-defined relationship, it was jealousy.

Don answering his phone in the middle of the night wasn't unusual, nor was his team calling him despite the late hour. But the fact that it had been Liz calling hadn't escaped her notice, so she asked him about her. She tried to keep her quips casual, to let him know it wasn't a big deal for her, but either Don saw right through her or it was a big thing for him.

An uncomfortable silence lingered in the air as he stalked out the door and Robin buried herself deeper in the sheets, throwing an arm over her face.

Although she would've preferred Don not working with his ex, Robin didn't have a problem with it per se. She trusted Don and didn't think ill of Liz either; she didn't actually believe there was anything going on between them anymore. It wasn't the fact that Liz was gorgeous that Robin worried about but that she was familiar and friendly; to Don, Liz was safe whereas she probably, apparently, wasn't. The idea hurt.

Frustrated, Robin reminded herself she'd been the one to run. She could only blame herself for their current situation.

That wasn't to say she wasn't a little dismayed Don had been so quick to find someone else to warm his bed after she'd left. She understood it, knew she had no right whatsoever to resent him for it. Still, she couldn't help wondering about it. Was Liz someone he would've found enticing no matter what, or had it been a-push-came-to-shove kind of thing? And whichever the case, why had they broken up?

Robin knew that the thing with Liz, which Don understandably refused to elaborate on, had been over before she'd come back, so she hadn't been the cause – technically. She hoped she had played no part in their relationship, especially in Don's decision to end it. It hadn't taken her long to realize that walking away from him had been a mistake, but she had stomached the doubts, the what-ifs, and the ache by thinking Don was doing all right without her. Accepting he hadn't was hard, and the fact that he had freely admitted she'd messed him up was frankly heartbreaking.

The thought stayed with Robin for the following days. She wished she had talked about her decision to leave more thoroughly when he'd asked – not that it would have gone a long way in actually fixing anything, but then she could've been sure Don knew she regretted it. She hadn't had the nerve to approach the subject afterwards, so she could only hope Don had noticed the wordless apologies she'd tried to convey through soft touches and quick glances.

She used to be better at reading him. Don had never worn his heart on his sleeve, but he hadn't been as closed off even in the beginning, which made Robin question if it had had anything to do with her seeing through him and everything to do with him showing her.

They were both good at pretending everything was okay, or more accurately, at blatantly ignoring the problems and refusing to acknowledge them – but it was getting harder. She could feel the tension building between them by one curt comment after another. As much as Robin disliked admitting it, the stress from controlling her every thought and emotion to appear unbothered was getting to her. She hadn't been as testy with Don in the past.

The exchange they had in her office about Clay Porter was a perfect example. It took barely a minute after Don sauntered in with a lovely breakfast and a brilliant smile for the conversation to become strained. She didn't mean to bring Liz up, nor did she mean to be so harsh but well… The jab wasn't completely unwarranted.

Their impromptu date sufficiently ruined, Robin called a falsely cheerful thank you to Don's retrieving back and professionally refrained from growling in frustration.

Keeping things light wasn't working anymore. Talking about their cases wasn't working anymore. Clearly, a change of tactics was needed if she wanted to get anywhere (or even just not move backwards) with Don. She was tired of joking about things that they needed to discuss. She was tired of him shutting her out – but aside from a few sharp words to tell him she hated it, she didn't know what else she could do than to let him. She wasn't in the position to demand anything more from him than he felt comfortable giving, not after she'd fled to the opposite side of the country and blamed it on an accessory. She'd have to wait for Don to make up his mind about the capacity in which he wanted her in his life. She'd never done well with not being in control, which was partly why she was so nervous about the possible outcomes. The bigger reason was the fact that she wasn't sure if she was ready to let him go again, but she also knew she couldn't handle being kept around for fun, not with him.

She'd just have to cross that bridge if they came to it, it would be all her fault anyway. Still, she couldn't help hoping that it could become something more with Don. That they could be serious about each other, or at least try.

The worst part was that Robin didn't know if she could trust him even if he said he wanted to try again since while he might think he wanted her back, he could wake up one day and realize he could never fully trust her again after how much she'd hurt him. Don acted confident and nonchalant, but she'd known him long enough or intimately enough, to know he was not as sure of himself as he made it look. Coming on strong, the cheeky smiles and long looks behind shades that lately _had_ been reserved only for her, was just as much a defense mechanism as closing himself off was.

Robin briefly wondered what would've happened if she hadn't found – didn't still find – his boldness so charming. The unique mixture of compassion and boyish audacity had been what had drawn her to Don in the beginning and how he'd managed to sneak past her defenses. She hadn't meant to let anyone get so close. He'd been an exception.

And somehow, after doing everything to prevent just that, Robin again found herself trying to stop feeling for Don. The irony was not lost on her. By trying to protect herself, she had wound up in a situation where she otherwise wouldn't have needed to protect herself.

It was exactly that protective instinct Robin had to stomp down later that night when Don slipped into her office like he would rather not have been there. She frowned. She didn't know what he wanted, but she didn't want to start another argument. To her relief, he didn't, leading instead with a confession that, despite the defensiveness, sounded apologetic, and Robin let herself relax. It felt good to work with him again, to be able to joke with him in the process. She leaned against the bookshelf, considering the case he asked her to give a try for him; his smile when she said it was at least worth a shot making her feel light. Thinking she should give in to the temptation to kiss him at the office just this once, Robin suddenly realized the alarmingly abrupt warm feeling could mean they were headed to another cycle of sweeping things under the rug.

She had had several reasons for waiting for him to make a move, but at the moment, none of them were good enough to let him slip through her fingers. She couldn't blame Don for being wary about putting himself on the line. She hadn't told him, hadn't let him know how she felt. She'd been too afraid to admit it even to herself before Don would have said something that would indicate he was willing to welcome her back, but she wanted him.

"Listen, Don-"

He cut her off.

"I mean, in terms of us, I'm there. I'm ready to step up."

Although it was what she'd hoped to hear, the declaration took Robin aback. She studied his face, looking for a sign of uncertainty, but the only glimmer in his eyes was something akin to hope, and she couldn't hold her smile back any longer. "Stepping up" was easier said than done but… she trusted he meant it. So, when she found herself from his bed again that night, and he was called away again, she just handed over his shirt and let him leave. And though he wasn't beside her, it was the first night she slept easy.

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 **Thanks for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated, especially since this is my first fic for this fandom.**


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